This is Permanence
by diopann
Summary: Caesar shrugs his shoulders, then rests the palms of his hands in the warm sand, watches it stick to his shirt, to Jojo's clothes, watches Jojo's hand burying themselves further in warm grains of a sand that looks toasted, sticking to the dark hairs on his arms.
well it's back to the battle today
but i wouldn't have it any other way

* * *

Tired muscles ache. Caesar seems to have a headstart, but it's fine, he thinks. He wants to ask why they're wearing their clothes, Grandma Erina's voice telling him he should not swim fully clothed or he might drown, 'Do you think I'm that weak, Granny!', and other times, other beaches, Severn only once, other coastal towns with white ice cream shops and ladies in frilly dresses, cloudy skies in the morning, mist coming in from the sea. Tired, he's tired, but his eyes open wide when Caesar's hand catches his arm and before them is an entire city, even though the surface is so high up, and nothing but sea surrounds them. From where they float it feels like flying above the underwater architecture of roman pillars and inner courtyards and Joseph asks 'What the hell?!' and there's no reply.

The waves of Naples were supposed to hide roman ruins too, older children would dive in search of them during long summer days and Caesar watched from the shore as they all ran into the sea, disappeared among the rocks and the foam. This was before his father disappeared himself and he'd promised his siblings they would see for themselves, one day. When he hears Jojo say 'What he hell!?', muffled by the pressure of the water, the mask on his face, he lets go of Jojo's arm and swims up towards the surface, this day of training is done. He knows Jojo follows closely so he saves up energy for the last sprint, reaches the surface and the shore at least a minute ahead, and smiles when Jojo finally makes it to where he is, the sun sinking into the continent behind him.

'Slow, simple country bumpkin,' he starts, checking that the pockets full of soap haven't had any accident underwater.  
'What?! What's that for?' Jojo's finally reached the spot in the sand where Caesar's seated, toes off his loafers and with them water, before he rests in the sand himself.  
'Seeing an underwater city and all you have to say is "What the hell!?",' Caesar shakes his head, 'how embarrassing, you uncultured moron.'  
'Wha-I-what was I supposed to say, hah?!'  
Caesar shrugs his shoulders, then rests the palms of his hands in the warm sand, watches it stick to his shirt, to Jojo's clothes, watches Jojo's hand burying themselves further in warm grains of a sand that looks toasted, sticking to the dark hairs on his arms. Grains of sand warming Jojo's hands splinter his tiredness and he stands.

'Let's go,' Caesar says to him, Joseph can barely make out his face because the sun is almost completely gone, and he's too tired, but he nods anyway. He extends his hand for Caesar to take, anyway.  
'Oi, what do ya want?'  
'Help me up, m'tired. Swimming with clothes on is stupid! My pants are heavier now, and I'm covered in sand!'  
Caesar groans, throws some italian Joseph doesn't understand at him, and takes the extended hand, makes almost no effort to pull Joseph up.  
'Thank you, dear Caesar!' Joseph sings, grabbing his loafers by the back, index and middle finger work as hooks, and Caesar lets go of his hand to run his over Joseph's shirt.  
'My hands are covered in sand because of you now,' he explains.  
There's a breeze coming in from the sea, it's warm and sends shivers up his spine when it hits his wet hair, his nape. He laughs prompted by one of those shivers.  
'You can use the ripple to get rid of those, stupid!'  
The shove he gets from that is worth getting to see Caesar's embarrassed face, the way he tries to speak without stuttering and fails.

Jojo doesn't fall as he expects, but he'll get him back, and he starts walking away, sand on his clothes, salt in his hair, his teeth. What about Jojo's mask, shouldn't it taste like salt water, wouldn't that be bad, wouldn't it, so he doesn't use the ripple to dry his clothes, to clean his hair. Jojo doesn't either. When their bare shoulders graze each other as they walk, he feels the grains on both of them, wonders if their skin will be chafed, if it'll dry, but it's warm, Jojo's skin, even though from his shirt tiny drops escape from time to time, and the sun is nowhere around.  
'You need help?' he says, looking ahead, the domes of Lisa Lisa's mansion coming into view in the distance. The island seems bigger than it is sometimes. He wishes the distance was even larger. So his clothes would have more time to dry.  
'Huh? With what?' Jojo asks, his hand on Caesar's shoulder like it belonged there, sticking like seafoam to rock.  
'The mask, idiot. Isn't it... hard to use? It's wet...' he regrets his words instantly, because he's spent enough time with Jojo, the child, to know he'll laugh.  
'Nah, I used the ripple so's dry on the inside!' the wide grin is audible from behind the mask and Caesar finds it tugs at the corner of his lips too, a preemptive smile. He doesn't ask why Jojo doesn't use the ripple to dry everywhere else, doesn't ask Jojo to stop using his shoulder as crutch to carry part of his weight, doesn't tell Jojo about the ruins beneath his hometown, not yet at least. Maybe later, afterwards, he can take Jojo there, they can go see those ruins together, maybe he can teach Jojo a more appropriate way to react to them.

'I hope our clothes dry before we get there.'  
'They won't.'  
'Haah, why not? Why are you so negative, little Caesar?'  
'Walk's not long enough, moron.'  
'Hmph. We can walk more slowly, idiot. One of my leg's almost dry already.'  
'I thought you were hungry...'  
'I am! I am! But Lisa Lisa won't let us sit at the table if we're still wet,' he snickers, 'so...'  
'So...'  
'Yeah.'  
'Okay.'


End file.
